


Merry Birthmas

by triggeringthehealing (froggydarren)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Allison Argent, Alternate Universe - Future, Derek is a Christmas Baby, Gen, Getting Together, M/M, Sheriff Jordan Parrish - Freeform, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, mention of the Hale house fire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-09-10 21:23:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8939860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/froggydarren/pseuds/triggeringthehealing
Summary: When he was little, it was Talia who always made sure that Derek's birthday didn't get forgotten in the Christmas frenzy. It was thanks to her that he didn't come to resent the holiday, and grew to love it instead. After the fire though, Derek has no love left for either, no matter how much Cora tries to remind him of how he used to feel. 
It's the first winter that they're spending in Beacon Hills, and Derek isn't sure if anyone in the pack knows that his birthday falls on Christmas Day. He should know better, of course.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [12 Days of Sterek](http://12daysofsterek.tumblr.com/) on tumblr.
> 
> A massive thank you to Jenn ([Reaping](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reaping)) for the last minute pre-read & making sure this fic is in decent shape <3

“No.”

“But Derek…”

“I said no, Cora,” Derek grumbles, and adds an extra glare in her direction.

“None of them _know_ though, how come you never…”

“Because it’s not a big deal,” Derek says. “Why do you care?”

“Why do you _not_ care?”

“When have you ever seen me be excited about either?”

“Well, there was the incessant pouting and complaining when all the wrapping paper was Christmas-themed,” Cora says with a grin. “Oh and the insistence that we get a tree from the Preserve instead of one that wouldn’t shed needles all over the house after the holidays.”

“I don’t remember that,” Derek tries to say, but Cora is not having any of it.

“I may have been young, but the treks around the forest were legendary, Derek. Mom kept trying to talk you out of it, but…” her voice softens a little as she talks. “The last one was… I think we were looking for about three hours,” she smiles fondly.

“That was then,” Derek says quietly.

“I know, Der, but you can’t… it’s… it’s been a long time now,” Cora tells him.

She sits down next to him on the couch, and rests her hand on top of his.

“Why didn’t you tell any of them?”

“About what?” Derek asks, deliberately playing obtuse.

“Does Stiles at least know that it’s your birthday on Christmas Day?” Cora asks clearly, leaving no room for avoidance.

Derek opens his mouth to say a resolute ‘no’, but then pauses, because he doesn’t really know. Stiles has ways to get information that no one else has, which has proven both convenient and annoying in the past. With this particular piece, Derek really can’t say for sure that it hasn’t surfaced at any point in the past few years.

“I don’t think so,” he says eventually, when Cora is still holding his gaze, waiting.

“That’s Derek-speak for maybe,” she says with a grin.

“Well, he has ways to ferret out information, and my birthday _is_ on file with places like the DMV and the Sheriff’s office,” Derek admits.

He thinks back on the times when he got arrested, and he’s really surprised that his birthday hasn’t come up before. Then again, he only moved back this past year, and while they all exchanged cards and small presents last year, this is the first holiday that he and Cora are spending near the pack.

“That’s a good point,” she concedes. “So, since chances are that he knows, you really should give in and celebrate properly.”

“I hate birthdays,” Derek grumbles.

“Oh, I meant Christmas,” Cora tells him. “You can stay your grumpy self about your birthday, it’s not like anyone’s gonna know the difference. They’ll just think you’re annoyed by the holiday spirit, and won’t know that you’re sulking because there’s no special birthday thing.”

“I do not…”

Cora laughs before he can finish the sentence, and Derek stops halfway. He frowns in her direction, but she’s already almost all the way across the room.

“I’ll even get the tree,” Cora says when she gets to the door. “I know the spot where your favorites are.”

“Cora, don’t,” Derek says weakly, already aware that he lost that battle.

She’s outside and the door is slamming closed before he can add anything else. Not that he knows what he could say to discourage or stop her from the plans to make Christmas into a big event for them.

She’s right, before the fire the holidays were a huge deal for their family, usually with extra cousins and extended family coming to visit. The house was big enough to accommodate the large numbers and their parents were sociable, always happy to have a lot of people around. Derek himself wasn’t as much of a lone wolf -- he can almost hear Stiles’ chuckle at the simile -- as he has become since they were lost in the attack. After the fire, everything about the holiday only served as a reminder of what he lost, of what he was responsible for.

The fire itself was shortly after the holidays, which was why so many of the Hales perished. There were still a few cousins visiting, staying behind after the majority of the extended family left. He remembers that there were still leftover decorations in the house, and presents barely used after they’d been opened on Christmas morning. He also remembers the birthday wrapping paper that he found charred in what was left of his own bedroom -- Talia’s doing, as she always had extra presents for him, wrapped differently to make sure he knew he wasn’t ignored for the bigger holiday.

The door creaks open when he’s still lost in the memories, and Derek doesn’t look up from the book he’s not really reading.

“I told you, Cora, I don’t want to make it a big deal,” he grumbles.

When he gets no response, his senses kick in and he listens to the sounds that a human wouldn’t hear. It’s not Cora’s familiar heartbeat that his ears catch, but one that’s equally as known to him.

“I’m going to go out on a limb and guess that this is about the upcoming festivities?” Stiles asks, stepping further into the apartment. “Door was unlocked,” he adds by way of explanation, before Derek can ask what he’s doing there.

Not that anyone from the pack needs a specific invitation. The door is usually open these days, especially for those in the pack, as strangers wouldn’t get past the wards that Deaton put up here and on all the other pack homes.

“Figures that you’d be a Grinch,” Stiles says when Derek doesn’t react beyond looking up from the book in his lap.

“I’m not…” Derek starts, then stops when he realises how petulant he sounds.

Maybe Cora has a point about his sulking, but he’s not going to admit it out loud.

“Must suck, having to share a birthday with something so big,” Stiles says.

He walks over and sits down in the chair across the coffee table, the one that Derek tends to think of as Stiles’ these days, a comfortable lounger that no one else uses even when Stiles isn’t around.

“Not a big deal,” Derek grumbles, trying to convince Stiles as much as himself.

“Lie,” Stiles says flatly, like he has the same ability as the werewolves to catch a skip in a heartbeat.

Derek glares at him, but doesn’t say anything. Stiles has been able to read him almost to the point of surpassing the supernatural abilities werewolves possess that allow them to hear the smallest shifts in a heartbeat or to scent the sudden change in emotions.

“I don’t _want_ it to be a big deal,” Derek rephrases his words to clarify his point.

“Okay,” Stiles says after a short pause.

“Okay?”

The surprise in his voice is obvious, and Derek doesn’t even try to prevent it from showing. He expected Stiles to insist on having a cake for Derek’s birthday, expected a speech about how the day is important and how it would be great for the pack. Instead, he’s faced with an understanding silence, and a soft smile on Stiles’ lips.

“I mean, I’m pretty sure I can’t stop the pack from the planned Christmas celebrations,” Stiles says. “Lydia is flying in, Jackson is already here, Allison will be bringing the kids. There’s no way you can weasel your way out of the present exchange either, because I saw Scott and Cora planning how to make a secret Santa thing work with werewolves. I’m not sure they figured that out.”

Derek lets out a frustrated groan. He should have known that Cora already had plans when she broached the topic this morning.

“But I’m the only one who knows about your birthday,” Stiles says. “Well, besides Cora, it would be odd if your sister didn’t know. Oh and the wayward uncle, who may be showing his ugly mug around here for the holidays as usual.”

“What?”

“Don’t look at me, I think it’s the smell of werewolf-friendly eggnog that attracts him,” Stiles defends himself quickly. “He’s been around every winter since our graduation from high school.”

“I didn’t know,” Derek says with a frown.

“It’s not a big deal,” Stiles tells him and shrugs. “He shows up, drinks eggnog, creeps around trying to look menacing, makes inappropriate comments and passes at Melissa, and then disappears until next Christmas. Plus, you weren’t around much, especially in the winter, so we didn’t get a chance to mention it.”

Derek is still not sure whether he should be worried or let it go like Stiles is implying he should. Anything related to his uncle is always mildly disconcerting, so Derek’s frown stays on. If nothing else, he’s glad for the distraction from the earlier topic of Christmas and his birthday.

Of course, he should know better by now.

“So, I’m pretty sure you can count on several invitations to Christmas dinner,” Stiles says, not looking at Derek. “But there’s also the possibility that with everyone in town, we’ll just pool everything into one place.”

“Pack Christmas?” Derek asks, already unsure about the idea.

“Yeah, I mean, cooking is easier that way, but I don’t know if anyone has enough space for all of us.”

WIth that, Stiles is lost in musing over how something like a joint dinner with everyone would work out. Derek’s shoulders sag -- he barely noticed how tense they were -- and he tries to follow Stiles’ muttering. It doesn’t last long, because Stiles excuses himself a short while later, rushing out to -- Derek guesses -- start putting together a plan for Christmas Day.

By the time Cora gets home, Derek’s already in his bedroom with only a night light on, so she doesn’t come to talk to him. He files it under yet another win for the day, and hopes that the topic of his birthday won’t come up again until… well, ever, ideally. Getting older when so many people he knew never got the chance is not a thing he wants to celebrate. And it’s not like he revels in being the center of attention either, always happier on the sidelines.

Days later, he remembers what he should have when Cora first brought the topic up. The pack is closer now, and celebrations don’t fly under the radar -- Derek is pretty sure there’s a shared calendar somewhere with everyone’s individual and shared important dates on it. He has a vague recollection of an email sent to him once about it, but it was a long time ago, when he was still staying away from Beacon Hills.

The pack Christmas event has come to fruition, and he’s been roped into hauling not only a massive tree from the Preserve -- from a part that is still Hale land, so no one was breaking any laws -- but also several pieces of necessary furniture. Because three of the pack members are official employees of the Sheriff’s Department and Derek himself is a consultant, the station’s break room has been chosen for the dinner.

“It’s just convenient,” Stiles explained when Derek asked about how they got permission. “I mean, Dad might be retired, but he still counts as a former employee, and with Jordan as Sheriff now, it was easy to get in. Plus, there’s little old me and Clarke, and technically you’re one of us. With Hayden as a family member, that’s six people from the pack in some way linked to the station.”

“Is that the spiel you gave Parrish?” Derek asked, sure he already knew the answer.

Stiles blushed in response the way he is now, standing at the table on the side that has the drinks. They’re all supposed to be non-alcoholic, since Parrish and Clarke are working and there are minors around. But Derek knows that the blush isn’t from eggnog or anything else alcoholic. He’s seen Stiles like this before a few times over the years they’ve known each other, and it’s always related to someone he’s interested it.

Right now, Derek tries to _not_ watch him talk to one of the new hires, a Deputy from out of town who only transferred a few weeks earlier. He’s someone Stiles knows, and Derek remembers that it’s someone who went through the police academy with Stiles.

“Derek, hey!” Stiles calls out when he catches Derek glancing in his direction.

When he gets waved over, Derek walks to them and tries to keep a neutral face. Granted, he probably looks unhappy, if Cora’s description of “Hale epic bitch face” is even remotely accurate.

“Hey, Anthony, this is Derek,” Stiles says the moment Derek is close enough. “I mentioned him a few times.”

“A few, yeah,” Anthony remarks with a grin. “Hale pack, right?” He asks Derek as he extends a hand. “My Mom’s been friendly with Satomi for years, and with Talia before that,” he says by way of explanation when he sees Derek’s eyes widen in surprise.

“Oh,” Derek says, letting the words wash over him.

It’s been a long time since he met anyone who used to know his family. Figures that Stiles would somehow end up befriending someone like that, someone who maybe had answers to a lot of questions that Derek never got to ask.

“Hey, listen, I have to go talk to Chris Argent, but we’ll chat later,” Anthony says, looking over Derek’s shoulder.

When Derek turns around, he almost immediately spots Allison and her father, her two kids using him as a jungle gym. He only manages to nod in acknowledgment of Anthony’s words and then he’s alone with Stiles by his side.

“So, uh,” Stiles starts, looking sheepish. “I guess I should have given you a warning about the family connection,” he says.

Derek waits, wondering if there’s more that Stiles wants to say, because there’s an air of nervousness and anticipation around him.

“I swear I didn’t expect Anthony to just blurt it out like that,” Stiles continued a few moments later. “I… there’s a reason…”

“There always is,” Derek mumbles, and then he blushes because he didn’t mean to say the words out loud, nor did he mean them in a negative way.

He knows that Stiles doesn’t do things without a purpose. Even when he was in high school, and sometimes threw himself into fights or trouble seemingly without reason, there always was one. Whether it was that he had a plan or a hunch, he never did something that he later couldn’t explain as deliberate.

“Look, come with me,” Stiles says, interrupting Derek’s musings.

Derek follows Stiles out of the break room and towards the Sheriff’s office. They pause by the door and Stiles unlocks it -- Derek doesn’t ask -- before he waves Derek in. It takes barely a few seconds for Derek to notice the box on the desk that doesn’t look like it belongs, and he steps closer to get a better look. His breath catches when he sees a familiar triskele on top of it, and he turns to look at Stiles.

“Happy birthday,” Stiles says quietly.

The door is closed again, and there are no sounds coming from the main area of the station. It’s just them and the box that Derek has now figured is meant for him.

“I’m sorry that there’s no bow or wrapping paper,” Stiles rambles while walking behind the desk. “There was no time, since Anthony was running late, and I needed… anyway, it’s all in here.”

Derek carefully takes the box out of Stiles’ hands, and he sits down in the nearest chair, because something tells him he’ll need it. The wood is warm under his fingers as he puts the box in his lap, and he runs them over the curves of the carving on top. It reminds him of the medallion he once had, the one he used as his anchor. Of course that’s not useful now, he has other things to steady him.

Stiles stays on the other side of the desk, and for once it doesn’t bother Derek that he’s being watched. It feels calming instead, like Stiles’ presence is helping.

“What…” Derek starts, and he looks up to meet Stiles’ eyes.

“I figured… I know you have the stuff that was in the vault, but…” Stiles speaks quietly, like he’s afraid he did something wrong. “These are… I found a few people who knew your family, who were friendly with them.”

Derek glances at the box under his hands, and he takes a deep breath before opening the lid. The first thing that hits him is the scent of _pack_. Not his pack, not family, but there’s something about the scents mixed in there that immediately evoke the same kind of feeling that family gatherings used to. It related to what he said to Scott once -- that wolves were stronger in a pack, together.

“ _Stiles_ ,” he whispers, and it’s a little reverent, soft, with a hint of gratefulness that he can’t put into words.

“If it’s too much, or wrong, I’m sorry,” Stiles says, and he sounds contrite.

Derek shakes his head, unable to tear his gaze from the contents. There are photos, he can see a small stack of them in one corner. A teddy he never thought he’d see again -- it was his, and he lost it on a visit once, back when he was maybe five years old -- tucked away between a bundle of letters and a small leather pouch he remembers his Grandmother carrying when he was little.

“It’s perfect,” he says, voice breaking as he looks over all the other things inside the wooden walls. “I can’t believe you managed to find these.”

“It’s been a bit of an adventure,” Stiles says with a grin emerging on his lips. “I knew Satomi would have some things, and I dug some stuff out from Deaton. But Anthony was a last minute miracle. The teddy is what he found, and the pouch,” Stiles points to the things, since he walked closer as he was talking.

Derek manages to hide the wince, but clearly not his feelings, because Stiles frowns.

“Well, his wife did, actually,” he tells Derek. “That’s why it was a miracle. She was cleaning out the attic in his family’s home so they can use it when the baby comes, and found these just after I asked Anthony if he could look for things.”

“Oh,” Derek breathes out, feeling a little dumb.

He knows what the sour feeling was just then, the same one he felt when he saw Stiles talking to Anthony earlier in the break room. But it’s something they haven’t talked about, despite the fact that they’ve been growing closer since Derek came back to town.

Years ago, he’d have known how Stiles feels. Back then, Derek was the one who had a wall built around himself to prevent others from knowing how he felt, and Stiles was the one wearing his emotions on his plaid sleeve. It’s different now, and Stiles has become better at holding back, at not letting everyone know what he’s thinking and feeling. Derek expected it to be the same, and he was sorely disappointed when he couldn’t figure out what Stiles thought of him anymore.

“Were you jealous?” Stiles breaks the silence between them with the question.

When Derek looks up from the box that his eyes drifted to again, he doesn’t miss the small tug on the corner of Stiles’ lips.

“Maybe,” he responds, mirroring the emerging smile.

“Aw, sourwolf, do you… _like me_?”

It’s more playful than their conversations usually are, and it’s perfect. Derek hasn’t forgotten how to flirt, and this most definitely feels like it’s heading that way.

“I don’t know, do I?” He asks back, watching Stiles as he leans against the edge of the desk.

“I’m not the one with the super nose here, I can’t smell your… whatever it would be that I should smell,” Stiles says, waving a hand in Derek’s direction.

“That’s not how it works,” Derek replies. “The only thing you could scent off a person, werewolf or human, would be arousal. Everything else needs words.”

“Ouch, that’s gotta be hard,” Stiles counters immediately, with amusement in his voice.

Derek raises an eyebrow, and watches as Stiles’ ears color when his brain realizes the double entendre.

“I’m not _that_ easy,” Stiles says with indignation. “You’d have to at least take me out to dinner. Probably.”

“I can do that,” Derek tells him.

It’s so easy, like it’s always been what he wanted to say. Stiles’ eyes widen in surprise for a second, and Derek’s smile softens.

“Dinner and a movie?” He asks, and he closes the box before he gets off the chair.

“Yeah, I… that would be great,” Stiles says.

His eyes follow Derek’s movements as he sets the box on the desk and stands in front of Stiles. Then Stiles’ eyes dart up, and Derek’s follow.

“No mistletoe,” Stiles says, almost disappointed.

“Do we need it?” Derek asks, and he reaches for Stiles’ hands.

“Dinner first,” Stiles tells him after he shakes his head. “Like I said, I’m not that easy.”

“Okay,” Derek says, and he takes a step back.

He doesn’t let go of Stiles’ right hand though, wrapping his own left around it. He grabs the box again, and glances to the door.

“Should we go back?”

“Probably,” Stiles says, and he sighs. “Before Jordan gets suspicious and comes looking. There might be talk.”

“And you’re not _that_ easy,” Derek chuckles. “Okay, let’s go back, so your virtue remains intact.”

“Maybe it’s yours I’m worries about,” Stiles says, following Derek to the door.

“Let me take you out first, then we can discuss virtues,” Derek says, opening the door.

“Found them!” Scott yells towards the break room when the door is fully open. “I think your office is safe, Jor!”

Derek can feel the heat in his face, and when he glances at Stiles, there’s a matching blush on his pale cheeks.

“Shup up, Scotty,” Stiles mutters. “He’s taking me out to dinner first.”

With that, Stiles is pulled away from Derek, who stands at the door and glances between the box in his hand and Stiles’ retreating back.

_Happy birthday to me_ , he thinks, and smiles.

**Author's Note:**

>   
> [my tumblr](http://froggydarren.tumblr.com/) || [my sterek fic tumblr](http://triggeringthehealing.tumblr.com/)  
> 


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